


Love Is Real.

by fandomismyship



Category: My Chemical Romance, Sherlock - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Acting, Angst, Blind Date, Coma, Cute, Death, Distractions, Dreams, Fluff, Halloween, Love, M/M, Parent!Destiel, Smoking, Teenage Sherlock, Work, fatherly Lestrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2017-12-30 23:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomismyship/pseuds/fandomismyship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is little one-shots from the fandoms I love. Also mini-fics from Tumblr that I did.<br/>I have no idea how many I'll do, or what ones, if you have any requests just ask!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter shall be Sabriel!

Sherlock Holmes, a man whose heart was believed to be nothing more than a block of ice, had never meant to fall in love. It wasn't like the detective - no, the Consulting Detective, the  _only_ one in the world - had wanted to feel like this. The thing is, it annoyed him. All of it. This thing called love, it was annoying to the lonely mind.

There was lots the curly haired man had hated about John Watson. He hated the way the sandy-fading haired man typed at his laptop, the way his fingers tripped over the keys and how  _slow_ he was.The way John made tea irritated the brightest mind, it was always too sweet. The fact that John was smaller than him and forced the pale man to look down just to speak to him, now that was terrible for an important mans neck. When John cared too much, Sherlock wanted to laugh hysterically until it shocked the damn ex-doctor into quietness, who cares if the Detective is not naturally happy? Can't he just be left alone? He also hated John's stupid jumper the hideous colours tended to drown the man's face out.

So why did Sherlock fall in love if he hated all those things? Why should it matter he loved to lean down and kiss John, or the fact he loved those fingers wrapped around him, or the way John would smile and care about him. It shouldn't matter that the Consulting Detective wanted John's tea because  _John made it,_ or that Sherlock just wanted one last chance to say 'I love you'.

The funeral had been all wrong for a man like John Watson. Sherlock hated that there were men in uniforms, men who fought in a place John had escaped but never quite forgot. He hated the stupid looks on everybody's faces. The man hated when someone cried, unable to finish a speech, because John deserved more. Sherlock didn't mind being called 'heartless' by Harry Watson as he watched his best friend, the love of his life's coffin move into the ground, because he would not cry at this. John deserved more.

John had deserved to live for longer, he deserved to be standing here now, listening to Sherlock rant about how ridiculous it was to celebrate a dead man when they could be doing something for John. John Watson hadn't deserved to be shot on Sherlock's biggest case. It wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair. 

So, maybe Sherlock had fallen in love with the things he hated, maybe he had wanted to hold John for longer, and maybe he had held onto John as the man told him he loved him and died in his arms, and maybe Sherlock didn't say it back in time. It doesn't matter now, none of it matters anymore, because the lonely old man who lives in Baker Street, apartment 221B, would never do another case, nor would the halls be echoed with laughter, talk, or music. John Watson had taken Sherlock Holmes heart with him a long time ago.

Sherlock Holmes hated love.


	2. Sugar Gabriel.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam knew it'd be a mistake to take Gabriel out on Halloween, but at least he got a treat out of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will either be Klaine or Cecilos.

Sam Winchester had never experienced Halloween before. Usually, as a kid, he was left at home as his dad went out on a hunt and his older brother went out to get some food from the shop across from them. Sam didn't really like Halloween, especially with the experience Gabriel added...

"Gabriel, no," Sam scolded for the sixth time as he held the piles of candy Gabriel had been stealing from Elizabeth Winchester. Elizabeth was a small five year old, her eyes glowing blue and black curly hair dripping around her face. Elizabeth was the daughter of Castiel and Dean Winchester. "Elizabeth got these, you can't jut take them! That's not allowed!"

"She has enough," he whined, the golden eyes reflecting Sam as the Archangel got closer. "Nobody has noticed."

"I noticed," Sam pointed out.

"You notice everything," Gabriel cooed. Oh, now that was not fair. The man had now put his arms around Sam, the candy hidden between them like a whispered secret. "Come on... it's not like I'm going to eat it all myself."

Sam huffed, frowning at Gabriel and pushing him away lightly. "No," he said sternly and put the candy back in Elizabeth's bag as they reached the house and all moved in. They had decided to go back to Sam and Gabriel's house at last minute, given theirs was a half hour drive from the nearest cinema, whereas the Dean and Castiel's was an hour away - they all had to go see Thor 2. The house wasn't big, nor was it too small, it was the perfect size for two men and the occasional guest. The front hall had a few photos of different family members up, unfortunately for Dean, that now included Crowley (who was with Bobby). The living room had an open fire on the far wall, a mirror above the mantel place, a brown coach, a small rocking chair and an average sized TV. Upstairs lay two bedrooms, one for the men who occupied the house the most, and the other for those who decided to stop by - both had the basics; a bed, drawers, a wardrobe, and the hidden secrets within it.

"You're no fun," Gabriel stated once Elizabeth had been placed in bed and Dean and Castiel had gone to watch some TV and Sam and Gabriel had retired to bed. "Halloween is one of the best holidays... you should lighten up more."

Sam sighed and pulled off his shirt, chucking it at Gabriel's face, snorting at the sound the Angel as he attempted to push it off. "Whatever," he mumbled before he felt Gabriel's arms wrap around his wrist and pull him around, their lips meeting in a deep kiss. "I have a better treat than anybody else has for you, Sam whispered into his ear before pushing Gabriel onto his knees, the man groaning as he looked up at Sam and waited for the other to pull down his own trousers. Sam would never tire of seeing Gabriel on his knees, ready to take him.

Gabriel licked at the tip of Sam's erection, the thick and long length hardening under the attention as big hands ran through Gabriel's golden hair and tugged on it lightly. "Ope up, baby," Sam whispered, his penis now at full attention as he placed the tip at Gabriel's mouth and let the other sink his mouth in. "Look at you," Sam moved his hand down to stroke Gabriel's cheek, "taking me like the little slut you are. You just love the taste of my cock in your mouth, don't you?" Sam smirked as Gabriel nodded slightly, taking all of Sam with, impressively, only two gagging moments. Sam watched as Gabriel's face flushed and his cheeks became hallow, the force he began to suck at drove Sam to the edge.

Okay, maybe Sam could learn to love Halloween after all..


	3. Sore Love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um, these are mini-fics, so it's realllllllly short.

Frank wouldn't admit that he had slept with Gerard. He couldn't admit it, because Gerard was happy now, wasn't he? At least he had the memories, the memories that he would never forget and that he would love until the day he died.

Maybe he did miss the man, the way his lips felt against his own and the way they came together like a melody. 

So, no. Frank would never admit it allowed. He would never shout from the rooftops that he was in love with the other member of the band. He wasn't in love. he couldn't be in love.


	4. Tom and Ben.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was fun.

Benedict should never have let Martin put him on a blind date. It was going to go so wrong. He'd have to tell the girl that he wasn't interested and then watch her eyes turn into puppy dog eyes. He was not happy. So, as he turned up at the restaurant, an apology thought up in his head and a rose in his hand, he was surprised to see Tom Hiddleston sitting at the table he was shown to. "Sorry, I think there has been a mistake here," Benedict said to the waiter, his keep voice cutting through the air and to Tom as the man turned around.

"No mistake," he said, a small blush creeping up on his cheeks as he nodded towards the chair across from them. "Please... sit." Benedict looked at the chair and then back at Tom before doing as he was told, putting the rose on the table before Tom picked it up, his long fingers trailing along it. "I guess this is for me?" Benedict nodded numbly. "I guess you want to know what's going on? Well... Martin said he needed to set you up with a date, and I couldn't resist my urge to fill in that position."

"So, you... like me?" Great way to put it, Ben, he thought to himself, blushing slightly as he shifted in his seat. Okay, so maybe he did have a small crush on the man before him.

"I do. Is that okay?" Benedict found himself nodding yes, forgetting about his plan to let down whatever girl Martin had set him up with, he finally had a good blind date.


	5. Distractions.

Misha smiled as he watched Jensen pull off his shirt, his face serious as he kept himself in the character of Dean Winchester. "Jensen," Misha mouthed, waving his arms around and trying to get the others attention. The blue eyed man started to pull faces, trying to make the other man look his way. "Jensen," he hissed as he got closer, a small smirk on his lips as they finally made eye contact and that was enough to make Jensen burst into laughter. 

"Cut," he heard the director call before Jensen was walking over to him, top still off.  

"I hate you sometimes," he stated, his hands resting on Misha's chest.  

"No, you love me, and I love you," Misha replied simply with a shrug before they kissed softly. "Now go and try that again."


	6. My Dreams Haunt Me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is going on with John?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and simple.

After Sherlock had died John had tried to get on with his life. He picked up on what Sherlock had left behind and did the best he could. It just wasn't the same without his mad Detective. The flat was quiet, the dust settling to never be disturbed again. Eventually John had shut himself away, not even allowing Mrs. Hudson to come and see him.

As the days grew to weeks, and weeks grew to months John felt more and more lost. His limp returned, a constant reminder of the hole in his heart. His nightmares crept into his dreams and mixed in the last day he spent with Sherlock. He would wake sweating and screaming for Sherlock but, as ever, he would get no reply. There was no one left for him to turn to, no one who could fix him. Not now.

As John sat staring at a picture of Sherlock he had put above his bed for company, he knew what he had to do. He had to get back to his Detective. That night, he dressed himself in his best suit and lay on his bed, pills working through his system as he tried not to be scared. This was right, this way he would get to be with Sherlock. He had sent his goodbyes to who needed them. This was it.

As sleep started to wash over him he let himself fall into a whirlpool of dreams, seeing everything him and Sherlock had gone through before a new scene lay before his eyes. "John," a deep voice whispered, a cold hand cupping his cheek as he looked into stormy eyes. "This isn't the way to go. You will be okay, I promise you, John. You can live your life and be happy. Don't make my death destroy you. John... We all have to go sometime, and I'm fine that I went now. I lived my life, but now you need to live for us. Live the life I will never get. Please, John."

\------

John gasped as he awoke again, his eyes wide as he took in his surroundings: a hospital room. How did he get here? What happened? The man looked beside him and felt his heart twist as he saw a familiar head of curls and he couldn't help the tears that ran down his face. "John, what's wrong?" Sherlock asked, frowning as he went to his friend and placed his hands on either side of his face.

"You're a-alive," John chocked out, his hands gripping onto Sherlocks as he pulled him closer.

"Of course I'm alive. You're lucky you are." John could see the worry in his Detectives eyes as he looked down at him. "You were out for months... I thought... I thought I was going to lose you."

John tugged Sherlock down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, ignoring how Sherlocks eyes widened for a split second before his Cupid's bow turn up into a smile. "I had the worst dream."

"It was just a dream. A coma induced dream," Sherlock whispered before he took John's hand and held it tightly.

John was just glad his detective was alive.


	7. The Arrogant Sod.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really short Hermione/Draco.

She knew she shouldn't even like Draco. He was an argonaut sod, if she was fully honest. There was just something... different about him. When they were alone he was the sweetest guy. He would hold onto her as if she was the most important thing in the world. His kisses would be soft and giving, rather than needy and hungry. It was everything she had ever wanted.

So as she lay with Draco another night, the trees alive with the sound of wind and the creatures of the dark night announcing they were also still awake, Hermione looked at his features and smiled. Maybe it was okay to love this boy. Everyone deserved a second chance, didn't they? He did treat her like a normal human being, rather than a 'mudblood'.

Hermione decided there and then, her and Draco were forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lazily done for a friend.


	8. Father?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Lestrade, like father like son.

"Sherlock!" The sharp tone caused the one-day-to-be-Consulting Detective to place his cigarette down, his eyes narrowing at the older man before him. "What have I said about smoking?"

"We will all day one day," was the only reply the teenager replied before lighting the cigarette and taking a drag.

"And you could have a great life, don't throw it away, Sherlock." The police officer stepped closer to the young man, a strong pull in his heart as he thought about the man dying.

"Yes, /dad/." As funny as it was for Sherlock to say that towards a man he barely knew, Lestrade did feel the fatherly pull towards the boy. He felt like he was forced to protect him as Sherlocks father could not. It's not that Sherlocks father was bad, but his parents didn't know half of what the teen got up to.

"Just be safe, Sherlock." Sherlock looked at the brown haired man out of the corner of his eyes and nodded before he walked on into the briskly night, trying to forget. about how much he enjoyed having someone other than Mycroft worry over him.

**Author's Note:**

> I promise the next one is nice.


End file.
